Under a teacup he might lie, Or creased, like dog's-ears, in a folio. The pitying Muses, however, have conveyed him away, and the proud Amazons are obliged to retreat; but they have a malignity to leave a spell behind them, which their victim finds when he slinks back to his home : The words too eager to unriddle The poet felt a strange disorder; So cunning was the apparatus, The powerful pot-hooks did so move him, When he arrives at the manor house, of course, he is dragged before the great lady, and is only saved from destruction by her sudden fit of clemency : The ghostly prudes with haggard face Already had condemned the sinner. My lady rose, and with a grace She smiled, and bid him come to dinner. To show how playful Gray could be on occasions the delightful letter to Walpole is quoted entire in which first appeared the lines "on a favorite cat," drowned in a tub of gold-fishes. Cambridge, March 1, 1747. As one ought to be particularly careful to avoid blunders in a letter of condolence, it would be a sensible satisfaction to me, before I testify my sorrow and the sincere part I take in your misfortune, to know for whom it is I lament. I knew Zara and Selima (Selima, was it? or Fatima ?), or rather I knew them both together; for I cannot justly say which was which. Then as to your "handsome cat," the name you distinguish her by, I am no less at a loss, as well knowing one's handsome cat is always the cat one loves best; or if one be alive and one dead, it is usually the latter which is the handsomest. Besides, if the Their retreat. Gray's letter to Walpole. Lines on the death of a favorite cat. point were never so clear, I hope you do not think me so ill-bred or so imprudent as to forfeit all my interest in the survivor ; oh, no! I would rather seem to mistake, and imagine to be sure it must be the tabby one that had met with sad accident. Till this matter is a little better determined, you will excuse me if I do not begin to cry-"Tempus inane peto, requiem, spatiumque doloris." Which interval is the more convenient, as it gives me time to rejoice with you on your new honors [Walpole had just been elected F. R. S.]. This is only a beginning ; I reckon next week we shall hear you are a Freemason. Heigh-ho! I feel (as you, to be sure, have long since) that I have very little to say, at least in prose. Somebody will be the better for it; I do not mean you, but your cat, feue Mademoiselle Selime, whom I am about to immortalize for one week or fortnight, as follows: Twas on a lofty vase's side Where China's gayest art had dyed The pensive Selima reclined, Gazèd on the lake below. Her conscious tail her joy declared: Her coat that with the tortoise vies, Still had she gazed, but 'midst the tide Their scaly armor's Tyrian hue Betray'd a golden gleam. The hapless nymph with wonder saw : With many an ardent wish She stretch'd, in vain, to reach the prize- What cat's averse to fish? Presumptuous maid! with looks intent Eight times emerging from the flood Some speedy aid to send : : No dolphin came, no nereid stirr'd, From hence, ye beauties! undeceived, Not all that tempts your wand'ring eyes Here is an extract from Walpole's "Castle of Otranto." The fatal slip. "Castle of One is enough to give a hint of its terrors. Otranto." Young Conrad's birthday was fixed for his espousals. The company was assembled in the chapel of the castle, and everything ready for beginning the divine office, when Conrad himself was missing. Manfred, impatient of the least delay, and who had not observed his son retire, despatched one of his attendants to summon the young prince. The servant, who had not staid long enough to have crossed the court to Conrad's apartment, came running back breathless, in a frantic manner, his eyes staring, and foaming at the mouth. He said nothing, but pointed at the court. The company were struck with terror and amazement. The Princess Hippolita, without knowing what was the matter, but anxious for her son, swooned away. Manfred, less apprehensive than enraged at the procrastination of the nuptials, and at the folly of his domestic, asked imperiously what was the matter? The fellow made no answer, but continued pointing toward the court-yard; and at last, after repeated questions put to him, cried out, “Oh! the helmet! the helmet!" In the meantime some of the company The terrible helmet. had run into the court, from whence was heard a confused noise of shrieks, horror, and surprise. Manfred, who began to be alarmed at not seeing his son, went himself to get information of what occasioned this strange confusion. Matilda remained, endeavoring to assist her mother, and Isabella staid for the same purpose, and to avoid showing any impatience for the bridegroom, for whom, in truth, she had conceived little affection. The first thing that struck Manfred's eyes was a group of his servants endeavoring to raise something that appeared to him a mountain of sable plumes. He gazed without believing his sight. "What are ye doing?" cried Manfred wrathfully; "where is my son?" A volley of voices replied, "Oh! my lord! the prince! the prince! the helmet! the helmet! Shocked with these lamentable sounds, and dreading he knew not what, he advanced hastily—but what a sight for a father's eyes! he beheld his child dashed to pieces, and almost buried under an enormous helmet, an hundred times more large than any casque ever made for human beings, and shaded with as proportionable number of black feathers. BIBLIOGRAPHY. Horace Walpole and His World. L. B. Seeley, M. A. Letters.) Castle of Otranto. Horace Walpole. (English Men of Mrs. Barbauld's Vicar of Wakefield. Oliver Goldsmith. British Novelists, Vol. 23. BOOK VIII. EVELINA AND DR. JOHNSON. CHAPTER XXIV. Queen Anne Street, London, Saturday, April 2d. THIS moment arrived. Just going to Drury Lane Theater. The celebrated Mr. Garrick performs Ranger. I am quite in ecstasy. So is Miss Mirvan. How fortunate that he should happen to play! We would not let Mrs. Mirvan rest till she consented to go. Her chief objection was to our dress, for we have had no time to Londonize ourselves; but we teased her into compliance, and so we are to sit in some obscure place that she may not be seen. As to me, I should be alike unknown in the most conspicuous or most private part of the house. I can write no more now. I have hardly time to breatheonly just this, the houses and streets are not quite so superb as I expected. However, I have seen nothing yet, so I ought not to judge. Well; adieu, my dearest sir, for the present; I could not forbear writing a few words instantly on my arrival, though I suppose my letter of thanks for your consent is still on the road. Saturday night. O, my dear sir, in what raptures am I returned! Well may Mr. Garrick be so celebrated, so universally admired-I had not any idea of so great a performer. Such ease! such vivacity in his manner! such grace in his motions! such fire and meaning in his eyes!—I could hardly believe he had studied a written part, for every word seemed to be uttered from the impulse of the moment. His action-at once so graceful and so free !—his voice—so clear, so melodious, yet so wonderfully various in its tones !— Such animation !—every look speaks! Opening chapter of "Evelina." Performance of Garrick. |